


A Kiss of Frost

by Artemis1000



Series: Grave Encounters [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Canon Universe, Creepy Fluff, Established Relationship, Ghosts, Gothic Romance, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: Bodhi has always had the best conversations with Cassian at his grave, but now he has grown strong enough to come home to the small house by the graveyard, the home Bodhi has made for the both of them.





	A Kiss of Frost

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 12 - Now You See Me of this year's 13 Days of Sniperpilot. This is a continuation of "Grave Encounters" written for last year's 13 Days of Sniperpilot.

_You will be coming home soon_ , Bodhi had kept telling Cassian whenever he visited his grave and every time he returned to the small house at the edge of the outpost, he would observe that the circle of frozen, withered grass expanding from Cassian’s gravestone had grown closer to his home.

He had known he would just have to be patient, and then Cassian and he could be united after life as they had not been during it.

He had known it would be worth the wait. He had known he would not regret promising Cassian forever. He had never once disappointed him.

Bodhi smiled now as he awoke in the middle of the night to find his sheets covered in a thin layer of frost, and cold seeping into him, chilling him to the very bone. His smile widened when he felt familiar almost-tangible fingers of ice caress his hair, then his face, his lips.

His eyes closed and his lips parted and icy air flooded him, first his mouth, then his throat, then even his lungs.

“Too much, Cassian,” he choked out between coughs, then fell back onto the frost-covered pillows with a breathless laugh. He reached out into the darkness above him and chose to believe that the retreating swirls of cold air he caressed were his lover’s face.

The presence withdrew slightly, just a hint of warmth returning to his body and his bed, and while he could not see or hear Cassian, he could distinctly feel his chagrin and apology as if the feelings were part of him, yet apart.

He tugged the blankets higher for all the warmth they failed to provide, and placed his hand on top of the blanket, fingers closing around thin air. “I missed you.”

The old house creaked, gnarly and wistful.

Bodhi’s smile gained an edge that was equally wistful. “I know. But you came as soon as you could. You struggled so much to strengthen for me.”

A gust of icy air washed over him. Bodhi’s heart skipped a beat. It felt like a frozen kiss.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw that the wildflowers placed in a vase on his bedside table had withered and died.

Cassian had strengthened alright.

The cold returned, coyly this time, seeping through the blankets as if they didn’t exist, coiling around his limbs and caressing him with icy fingers that had no substance yet still left him shivering with more than cold.

He turned his face away from the withered flowers and breathed, “I have waited for you.” The words were stolen from his lips, swallowed up, and he closed his eyes and gave himself fully to the cold.

It was ironic how he never felt more alive than he did with Cassian after he had died.

Yet far too soon, reality intruded as it always did.

Bodhi felt tears prickle at the edge of his eyes when he noticed the familiar withered feeling rise up within himself, as if he were turning into something as dead as the wildflowers, as Cassian himself. A physical weakness, almost like falling into the cold and cloaking yourself with it.

He had thought… The tears stung harder and escaped his eyes, they froze on his lashes and cheeks before he could even think to wipe them away.

“We never have enough time. I don’t know why I thought it would be different when you make it to the house,” he confessed and felt immediately terrible for it. Cassian had fought so hard to reach the home Bodhi had made for the both of them, he should be overjoyed for what they could have now, not sad for what they couldn’t.

But oh, how he wished Cassian could stay. Just once, just a little while longer…

The cold soaked deeper into him, making his eyelids feel too heavy to keep them open. This was not the cold he had come to know as Cassian’s caress, this cold was something far more foreboding, something which neither of them could control. It was the price Cassian paid for being here with him at all. Bodhi yawned, he had curled up on his side and was hugging his pillow before he even knew what he was doing. He was so tired. So very tired.

The curtains and blankets rustled, first gently, then with downright alarm.

“Yes. You’re right. I can’t.” He nodded weakly. If he slept now, he might never wake again.

Bodhi forced his sleepy eyes open, though he saw nothing but darkness in the moonlight illuminating the room, not even a darker shadow among shadows. Opened his mouth and wished to plead with Cassian not to go, to stay if only for another moment, but his hands were numb and he knew they couldn’t afford it. In the early days, he would linger too long at Cassian’s grave and the price for it had always been high. It would be cruel to ask Cassian to hurt him when it was the last thing he would ever want.

“I love you,” he said instead. His breath turned into fog and settled on his face, frozen. Bodhi decided that it felt like a kiss made of frost.

He buried his face in the pillow where his tears would be soaked up before they could freeze to his face and did not move until his bedroom had warmed again.

When he looked up, the first rays of sunlight were sneaking into the room, unhindered by curtains tangled and half torn.

The ice that covered his room last night had thawed – except for a kiss of frost clinging to the withered flowers on his bedside table.


End file.
